


Knight of Regret

by Level4Chaos



Series: KoP [2]
Category: Bakuten Shoot Beyblade
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Breaking Up & Making Up, Class Differences, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, English Dub Names, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Minor Original Character(s), Oral Sex, POV Third Person Omniscient, Romance, Rough Sex, Sexual Content, Vampire Bites
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-08-01 21:52:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16292459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Level4Chaos/pseuds/Level4Chaos
Summary: [TAGS AND WARNINGS ARE FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS!]Sequel to "Knight of Passion".Between trying to pacify his family, his nemesis, and his team, Robert makes some bad decisions that might just cost him the love of his life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **WARNING:** This fanfic contains graphic gay sex scenes, homophobia, and class discrimination. 
> 
> **DISCLAIMER:** With the exception of Robert's uncle, the characters and places in this fanfic are **not mine**! I assure you they will be returned to their rightful places in perfect condition - and I will have made no money from their adventures! This story is a **work of fiction** , and I acknowledge that I have taken uncountable liberties with the Beyblade plot and characters' personalities / sexual persuasions. In no way do I mean the characters, or their creators, any harm or disrespect; I write this purely to show my love for the anime in my own special way - nothing more, nothing less.
> 
>  **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** It's been a _long_ time since I wrote [Knight of Passion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15860511/chapters/36946053), and at the time, I received a lot of requests for a sequel. I'm sorry it's taken me this long to actually write one, but for some really strange reason, the inspiration that eluded me a decade ago recently struck out of nowhere.
> 
> If there is anyone still out there even vaguely interested in it, I hope you will enjoy! For this sequel to work, it will have to be a lot darker than its predecessor. I always felt I didn't explore the characters as much as I should have, and glazed over parts I should have detailed a lot more. I hope I can right my wrongs with this offering.
> 
> I am trying to write it in such a way that you do not have to read the first one... but I really hope you do anyway. Thank you always for your support!

The two boys had already been told off once for listening at Robert's door, but as soon as the corridor was free of servants, they were back again. Their difference in height made it easy for the both of them to press their ears firmly to the door at the same time, in the hope of making out some of the conversation happening within their captain's private quarters.

There was shouting in Robert's native tongue; something about _staying out of his personal affairs_ , and that _he was the rightful heir to the family estate, with or without a wife_. Enrique's German was as rusty as Oliver's, but together, they managed to work out the gist of the phone call.

It had to be Robert's uncle and former guardian, the Duke, on the other end of the line.

Enrique and Oliver had only been staying at the castle for two days, and already Robert had taken numerous angry phone calls. At first, they had been polite enough to ignore it when he would excuse himself from their conversations, but the more shouting they heard, the more curious they had become.

They never asked, and Robert never told, but the Duke was obviously upset about something, and the boys had a pretty clear idea what it was.

Michael - captain of the American All Starz.

No one had imagined he and Robert would get along, let alone fall in love. Even Oliver, a hopeless romantic, had to admit it was strange their relationship had lasted this long. And the longer it continued, the angrier Robert's family were getting.

The last Jürgens heir, destined to be childless, because of some common punk? So, the threats began. They would take away his title, his allowances, his castle - everything, unless he got rid of the boy. He'd called their bluff, knowing that even if they _did_ do as they said, he could survive on his Beyblading prize money. Perhaps not in the luxury he was accustomed to, but he certainly wouldn't starve to death.

Robert was, after all, the European champion. Appearances and endorsements alone provided him with enough money to enjoy himself without having to dip into his inheritance. He didn't need his family's old-fashioned rules, and he didn't need _them_.

He listened to the Duke reciting outdated rules and codes, occasionally grunting in acknowledgement, just so he didn't have to hear them _again_. Now that he was finally the man he wanted to be, why was everyone so desperate to change him?

On and on... he practically knew the speech by heart for all the times he had been forced to hear it. _Stop playing with those silly toys, marry a girl with a good family name, and raise a son._

Out of sheer boredom, he opened a drawer on his desk, and flicked through the contents within - just a lot of invoices with nothing overly interesting to help him ignore his uncle.

Except for one seemingly innocent sheet of paper, folded carelessly in half, and hidden in the drawer to be forgotten. A secret contract he'd signed just to get Judy off his back.

His code of honour would never have allowed him to spy on or coerce his lover into revealing his team's secrets, but of course, the All Starz' coach had wanted it in writing. Judy's satisfaction, however, came with consequences - Robert was to end his relationship with Michael if the Majestics and All Starz ever entered the same tournament.

It wasn't that big a deal; after all, the Majestics weren't an official team, with no foreseeable plans to become so. It was just a convenient name to use when talking about the European champions as a collective. If Judy wanted to blow everything out of proportion, then Robert would go along with it, so long as it meant he could keep Michael by his side.

He shoved the paper back into the drawer. If only he could be rid of his uncle that easily! The phone call had stretched longer than his patience, with the potential to continue even longer.

Again, a reminder of his duties to his family, followed by a few, less than flattering observations about his chosen mate...

"You have only met him once!" Robert resumed his shouting; this time determined to end the call with the last word, as insubordinate as that was. "Do not judge me, or those I choose to surround myself with, until you know the entire story!"

The sound of the receiver being slammed down was Enrique and Oliver's cue to run back to the sitting room, where the fourth member of the Majestics, Johnny, was stretched out across one of the lounges.

The Scottish boy did not speak German; _that_ , and he just didn't care what Robert's family had to say about Michael. He was confident that they shared his opinion of him. So, why bother playing stupid games, and listening in to private conversations?

"...And it was the best cake I've ever tasted!" The pretty French boy exclaimed, like he had been telling Enrique some amazing story the entire time.  
"Sounds great!" The blonde nodded, a little _too_ interested.

"You guys are idiots." Johnny cut in angrily, sitting up and scowling. "Why should we have to pretend there's nothing wrong?"

One look at how weary Robert was as he stood in the doorway, and even if he hadn't heard the muffled argument, it was still obvious there was something bad going on.  
"Because there _is_ nothing wrong, Johnny." Robert assured him, moving across the room and sitting back down with a forced, proud posture as though he had never left. "I have everything under control."

"Bullshit."  
He hadn't jumped on an insane helicopter ride to Russia in the middle of the night and fought a hard battle against the Demolition Boys alongside his captain just to have him lose a battle of a different kind to his uncle. He'd done it for honour and loyalty to his friend, and now, he couldn't stand idly by and watch Robert lose the knightly privileges that he had been born into, just because he wanted a bit of common ass.

"Do not use that kind of language in my house."  
The redhead pressed the argument, "You've been fighting with Duke Jürgens for nearly _two years_ ; you expect us to just keep ignoring it?"  
"I would hardly call what you have done over that time _ignoring it_."

The other two boys sat in silence; their eyes shifting back and forth between their powerful captain and their fiery team mate; not sure whether to say anything before another quarrel broke out, or just let the pair wear themselves out.

It was awkward listening to them. They both had good points, and neither of them was going to back down. Johnny wanted Robert to dump Michael and fix the mess with his family, and Robert was so smitten by his American lover, he did not care what his family _or_ Johnny thought.

Neither was afraid to admit their stance, as loud and resolute as the other, and so the stalemate continued.

Mid-argument, Robert glanced at the clock upon the mantelpiece, abruptly stopping his sentence and beginning anew. "I must go."

Johnny cast him a sour look; he knew where his friend was going, and he didn't agree with it one bit.  
"Make him walk here." He suggested angrily to his captain's retreating back.

He was never going to like Michael, not while he was tearing the Jürgens family apart - and he didn't even know he was doing it!

* * * * *

The young lord headed out to the side entrance way, where his head servant, Gustav, was waiting with his favourite car. At once, the older man opened the door for him, and he slumped into the rich leather upholstery of the roomy back seat, sighing.

Gustav had been briefed earlier on his destination, so without a word, he drove out of the estate and onto the winding mountain road. Robert looked sadly out the window at the forest surrounding his castle. At last, he could drop the act, and be himself - his wretched self, who just wanted to scream. If it wasn't his family, it was Johnny. If it wasn't Johnny, it was the media. Why did things have to be so difficult? All he wanted was to be in love.

As forests became fields, Robert poured himself some wine. He felt like indulging in some luxury; he was tired from arguing all morning, and the international airport was an hour away. There was nothing nicer than some good wine and the scenic landscape of his home to relax him and put him in a better mood to receive his guest.


	2. Chapter 2

Why was he even here? The longer he waited, the more it seemed like a bad plan. He should have just sent Gustav in his stead, but it had been three long months since he'd last seen his lover, and he wanted to be there to welcome him back personally.

Robert was never going to feel comfortable with public shows of affection. Even now, he still had to steel himself for the inevitable barrage of kisses in front of the crowded terminal.

Not that he didn't enjoy Michael's special breed of shameless adoration; he just would have preferred to receive it to be behind closed doors, where he could let his guard down and reciprocate it.

He had learned his lesson about allowing people to see - and judge - his relationship with his American counterpart. The press coverage of that one careless kiss in the middle of that fateful baseball game had seen him cut off from his family, and his loyalties questioned by the BBA.

At the time, he insisted he didn't care, but there was so much damage control to deal with. Why did everyone care so much about his personal life? Why couldn't they just leave him alone, and let him be happy?

Michael, however, thrived on attention. He was the bad boy of American Beyblading, and an international romance with another man was _just_ the kind of news to whip the entire sporting world into a frenzy - and he loved it. Good or bad, he lapped up the publicity; his only concern was making sure the photographers got his good side.

It was one element of their personalities which still clashed; Robert was traditional and private in the way he expressed himself, and he was dating quite possibly the world's biggest show-off.

So now, as he stood waiting for the passengers of the plane to start filing into the airport, he cast a wary look behind him, hoping - just once, there were no reporters nearby. Sure, he had the money and power to have them escorted away, but that would only stir up more controversy. And the last thing he needed was _that_.

It had been almost two years since Michael had first come to his bedroom and seduced him. With the exception of his uncle's abusive phone calls, Robert's family weren't talking to him, but at least he had regained the trust of Judy, and with her support, the remaining three All Starz followed. Not that any of them knew why their coach had a sudden change of heart, Michael included.

Robert's family, however, were another matter altogether - one that wouldn't go away by signing some trivial piece of paper. They wanted him to marry a girl they had approved... and Michael was neither a girl, nor in the running for their approval. He was just a common boy who had brought nothing but shame to the illustrious Jürgens family, and that was all they were ever going to see in him.

Robert hadn't wanted them to find out through the media. He wanted to wait, and tell them personally, when the time was right. It was a delicate subject; after all, how does one tell their family that their long line of fine knights was going to end with him?

Johnny constantly told him that it was just some infatuation with the forbidden that he would get over soon enough, but it never happened. He was still as much in love with Michael as he had been the moment he had given his virginity to him.

And that was why he was waiting, despite every other sense and instinct urging him to run back to his castle and receive his guest there. He couldn't bear to be without him for longer than necessary, and the drive back into the mountains was an hour's trip... an hour he didn't want to spend alone.

The crowd began to swell, and Robert's impressive stature proved useful as he looked over the heads of the travellers in search of that wild burgundy mane, tamed by a patriotic baseball cap.

Flanked by two grinning girls, Michael was smiling just as broadly as they complimented him on his Beyblading skills _and_ his looks. They propositioned him, and invited him back to their house, but he had to refuse. There was only one reason he was here. And the closer he got to the outskirts of the crowd, the more he could see of his tall lover.

"I'm sorry, ladies." He waved them off, much to their disappointment. "I have a boyfriend."

It made him feel so proud to say it. His old self would never have turned down an opportunity with two willing girls, but now... now, he was involved with a man he adored, and couldn't imagine going back to his days of empty pleasure; even if it meant going for months without another's intimate touch...

If someone had told him he would one day be in a long-distance relationship and living in celibacy for most of the year, he would have laughed in their face. But here he was, doing just that... and his body was aching with the memories of the last time he had felt Robert's hands on him.

Three months was a long time when he barely used to last three days without having to seek out a nameless partner for the night.

"Robert..."

If there were reporters and photographers, Robert didn't see them as Michael's arms wrapped around his shoulders; his body pressed tightly to him; his lips clumsily making contact with his jaw, his chin, and finally his lips.

Robert closed his eyes as he surrendered to his need to respond. He embraced his lover's waist, as his tongue tasted the kisses he had missed so much. The world raced around them, but they were content to stay locked together in their silent reunion.

"Get inside me." The American boy slurred into the kiss.

"A normal person would greet me with 'Hello' first." Robert said, turning his head to the side so that he could talk through the onslaught.

"Yeah, yeah... hi." Michael's hot breath raced across the knight's face as his lower half ground against him. "Now, why aren't you fucking me?"  
There was that loathsome word! A deep red stained Robert's cheeks, because despite wanting to call the act _anything_ but _that_ , there really was no other word to describe what he wanted to do to Michael after so long without him.

"Not here." He insisted, his hands seeking the redhead's hips in an attempt to stall his inappropriate behaviour, until they were somewhere a little more private.

Michael was used to being told no, but that didn't make it easier for him to stop. He was only allowed out of Judy's sight for a few days, and he wanted to make the most of his time with his lover - which, to a boy like him, meant writhing on his back, moaning for his knight in shining armour to go faster, harder, deeper.

The lapse in his affection's intensity was exactly what Robert needed to successfully pry him away.

"Do you have any luggage?" The German boy asked, holding him at arm's length to avoid any more of his ill-discipline.  
Michael shook his head. "I was hoping to be naked most of the time."

He was genuinely disgusting, and Robert found it irresistible - even though his frown said otherwise.  
"I hope this visit is not some sort of international _booty call_?"  
Michael managed to stifle his laugh into a less offensive snicker at hearing Robert's aristocratic voice using such terminology.  
"Are you seriously telling me you'd be upset if it was?"

The taller boy's frown deepened. Sex was nothing to joke about; he was committing all sorts of abominations to his family's strong beliefs on the subject just by taking someone to his bed before marrying them, let alone a commoner... a _male_ commoner.

He refused to answer the question. "Let us get you to the car before you have us _both_ thrown out of here."

* * * * *

Gustav opened the door to the limousine and gave a bow of respect to his master and guest.  
"Straight home." Robert confirmed the course as he filed in, and sat beside Michael.

The car's wheels had barely begun to roll before the American moved to straddle his lover's lap.  
"I've missed you." He sang sweetly, twining his arms around Robert's shoulders and leaning in to kiss him.

Robert's horrified eyes met with Gustav's in the rear view mirror, and the butler was quick to avert his glance. A moment later, the darkened privacy screen slid from behind the front seat, separating driver from passengers. Even though he was head of the household, and knew everything about his master's doings, there were some things better left to the imagination.

"I have missed you, too." Robert answered carefully, his hands staying firmly by his sides; not returning the affection, but certainly not discouraging it.

Despite all his attempts to act proper and decent whilst he had a window at his side, he had to bite his lip as Michael moved deeper into his lap, rubbing his brazen erection against Robert's groin.

"How about fucking me _now_?" The All Star invited, pushing himself closer, letting his balls do most of the stimulation as he dragged them across the hardening flesh.

Robert had let Michael get away with a great deal of things he would never have tolerated from anyone else. This was why he had never met the boy at the airport before... this was why he would never announce the exact time his private jet was scheduled to arrive when it was his turn to visit America. It made things awkward; it was easier to avoid it than to try saying no to an offer he knew he couldn't refuse.

The nobleman's hands sought his lover's hips, his fingers splaying across his buttocks. It was his intention to stop him, but the more Michael ground against him, the more powerless he became. His breathing was heavy, his face was flushed, and his loins hungered for exactly what his lover was demanding... but here, in his car - on his perfect upholstery - as his most trusted servant chauffeured them through populated streets?


	3. Chapter 3

No words needed to be spoken as their lips met; hot breaths swallowed as their tongues twined. Robert's fingers clawed at the back of Michael's shorts, blindly pulling them down as the redhead madly worked to undo them at the front.

It had been too long since either of them had felt their hearts racing like this; the anticipation before they became one...

With his own pants loosened and sitting around his hips, Michael bit his lip appreciatively as he reached down to help his lover do the same. His fingertips teased the straining zipper, and he laughed as Robert moaned. So noble... so proper... the All Star knew exactly how to break him.

With a skilled flick of his fingers, the button on the waistband popped open, and Michael drew the zipper down as slowly as his own want would allow. His hand encircled Robert's shaft, running up and down the length appreciatively. The feel of it; just how long and thick it was... it was even better than he remembered it in his lonely fantasies - and it was all his.

His thumb traced circles around the head, each lap ending with a determined rub against the tiny opening, making the nobleman pull the most pained expression as he tried to keep his appreciation quiet. There was no way of denying his body's show, however, and Michael bit his bottom lip as his lover's cock began to weep in anticipation.

He couldn't wait a moment longer. It would have to be lubricant enough for his aching insides.

In their own little world inside the limousine, the only sounds audible were their heavy breathing, and the squelch of slick flesh pushing in and out of tight confines, over and over.

"I love you..." The American boy gasped, strings of drool dangling from his chin as his gyrated in his lover's lap. It was not a confession he threw around to every man he had been with; he meant it just as much as he had the first time he said it to Robert.

No one made him feel like he did. It wasn't just when they made love; it was all the time. Robert's very presence was powerful, domineering, and comforting... all the things a boy with no self-control needed.

Robert never doubted he was doing the right thing, but hearing those precious words reinforced his resolve. Would the girl he was forced to marry ever say such things to him? No. Would she bounce in his lap like a whore as she said it? Hardly.

It didn't matter what his family thought of him. All that mattered was here and now.

* * * * *

"Michael!" Oliver leapt up, taking the American boy's hands in his and leaned in to kiss him.

It was something he was never going to get used to, and he gave Robert a guilty glance as the French boy's lips met his for a moment.

As Oliver drew back, he gave a naughty smirk.  
"I guess you two will be spending some time getting _settled in_?"  
Michael returned an equally mischievous look. "It's been taken care of."  
"In the car?!"  
The All Star bit his lip and gave a single nod.  
"No!" The smaller boy gasped, on the verge of laughing. "Come. I've just put some tea on... you have to tell me _all_ about it."

He linked his elbow with Michael's and led him out of the room.

Robert stared after them, frowning. His guest had been in his house for all of one minute, and Oliver had already whisked him away. And worst of all, to talk about their private moment. It still amazed him just how comfortable the two boys were with having those kinds of conversations.

It would, however, give him a chance to take a bath, for which he was grateful. Michael revelled in it, but Robert would never get used to the smell of sex hanging on him like thick, sticky cologne.

The boys' laughter could be heard through the corridors of the castle, as they regaled each other with stories of their latest sexual escapades. Michael's stories were tame by comparison, but Oliver enjoyed watching him sigh over his captain. It was the difference between love and lust.

The little French boy was as deviant as he was cute - nothing that Enrique didn't already know as he pulled up a chair with them.  
"You're not telling him _that_ story, are you?" The blonde joined in. "I'm sure Michael doesn't need to be traumatised this early into his stay!"

"Says the guy who thinks a _ménage à trois_ is just another night." Oliver took a sip of his tea.  
"I'm not going to confirm or deny that." The Italian gave a cheeky grin, "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"Yeah, right." Johnny spat, wandering into the room and throwing himself down in a chair in the corner - as far away from the rest of the group as he could be. "Since when have _you_ been a gentleman?"

"Have you come to tell us a story, Johnny?" Oliver already knew the answer before he asked; he just liked to tease his teammate.  
"Why don't you just fuck right off?"

The green-haired boy got away with a lot of cheek purely because of good timing, and Robert rarely heard the catalyst for Johnny's swearing. The master of the castle stood in the doorway, with that same look of disdain he always wore when dealing with his fiery teammate's outbursts.

His hair was still damp from his bath, and it hung down the sides of his face in long purple clumps. It made Michael's heart skip a beat to see him looking so... wild. The last time he had seen Robert look so messy was when they had taken a shower together in his apartment back in America.

He had taught Robert a couple of things that day. It made him shiver just thinking about how good it had felt to have his legs wrapped around his lover's waist; their wet bodies so slippery against each other...

Oliver knew that look, and gave his own little smirk as his eyes darted between the lovers. He wished he had someone to look at him with complete adoration like that. He would have to ask Michael later about the memory that made his eyes cloud.

"Please do not speak like that in my house, Johnny. We have a guest present."  
"Is _that_ what we're calling him?"

It was better to ignore him than attempt an argument. Right or wrong, Johnny never backed down from a fight. Robert cast a warning glance at Michael, hoping he wouldn't respond, but the Scot knew exactly how to rile him.

" _What_ is your problem, McGregor?" The All Star rose to his feet.  
Oliver reached over and put his hand gently on his arm, in a silent attempt to stop him. They had come to physical blows when Michael first stayed at the castle, and their relationship hadn't improved much since.

" _You_ are my problem, Parker." Johnny spat the surname like it hurt his high-born mouth to say something so common. "Why are you even here, anyway?"

Every time... every single time they were in the same room together, they fought; Robert's best friend, and his boyfriend. They were too much alike.  
"Enough!" He shouted, "Be quiet - both of you!"

He never chose sides; he treated them both like they were annoyances, which was the most frustrating part for such fierce rivals, as they pouted in their respective corners.

Determined not to let the room sink into an uncomfortable silence, Oliver offered his host some tea. The knight took a sip, and his frown softened. It was the best reaction the little French boy could hope for from his captain, especially while Johnny and Michael were still scowling at each other.

"I hear you've quit your baseball team?" Enrique asked their guest. "Who am I going to impress my girls with now? Our trips to the U.S. aren't going to be anywhere near as exciting."  
Robert turned to Michael, worried. "You never told me about that."  
The American shrugged it off sadly. "After the All Starz placed so badly in the first World Tournament, we lost a lot of funding. I had to make a choice between baseball and Beyblading... we _all_ had to make that choice."

It was common knowledge the All Starz were no longer incorporating sports into their blading techniques, and he wasn't telling them anything they wouldn't have found out if they watched more television and played less chess.

"Do you think that was the right decision?" Enrique didn't mean to be rude to him, but there really was no other way to compliment the boy's prowess on the field, without insulting his performance in the Beystadium.  
Michael raised an eyebrow, "Is that a challenge?"

From his quiet corner, Johnny couldn't hold back an amused snort, "Enrique would kick your sorry ass."

"No, no." The Italian boy put his hands up defensively and plastered a goofy smile on his face. "It's just that you're an amazing ball player."  
"Yeah..." Michael agreed, more regretful than arrogant. "I know..."


	4. Chapter 4

"Robert...!"

He would never get tired of hearing his lover moan his name like that, and Michael was only too willing to make those sounds for him as he pushed himself deeper into the undulating body beneath him.

It barely seemed like a week ago when they had first been forced to tolerate each other, and now, they were closing in on their second anniversary. It had been difficult; they both lived halfway across the world from each other, but those moments they were finally close enough to touch each other made the months apart seem like nothing.

This was not one of those moments. This was pure, selfish sex; to make up for lost time since Robert's last visit to America, and whilst once he never even knew what he was missing, he now craved the feeling of his lover's lean, muscular body wrapped around him every single day he was without it.

Of course, there had been phone calls - ones he had been terribly embarrassed about in the beginning. But even if he couldn't keep up with Michael's dirty talk, he found, with great shame, he loved to hear the boy's heavy breathing and the occasional bitten back cry as he _knew_ he was pleasuring himself to his own mental images.

He wanted to ask, but he was always afraid to - what was he doing to bring those sounds to his lips? Was he stroking or fingering himself... or something his innocent mind didn't even know about? It just made Robert want him even more... to be there, and be the hand that was bringing him to climax.

It was in this very bed they had consummated their love. Robert had been awkward and scared at the time, but through Michael's guidance, he learned _exactly_ how to please him, and although his practise time had been limited, the pair moved in perfect rhythm with each other.

Michael moaned again, burying his face in the pillow as he pushed back on his knees to meet Robert's thrusts from behind.  
"Oh god... fuck me hard!"

As much as the nobleman tried, he still lacked the tolerance for his common lover's equally common language, but in the bedroom, he was willing to make an exception - and accommodate Michael's explicit request.

It wasn't so long ago that Robert had been horrified by the idea of pulling his lover's hair, but Michael had insisted - begged, even. He still hesitated before he balled his fist in the burgundy strands, wrenching the boy's head back and planting several hot kisses on his shoulder.

The All Star howled with delight, his fingers digging into the pillow. Of course, he loved how romantic Robert usually was, but sometimes, he just wanted to be pounded with wild abandon... like the old days, before he found himself in an exclusive relationship.

Michael rolled his pelvis with the impact of each thrust. He was completely at Robert's mercy; screaming as he touched him deep. This was everything he hoped his visit would be!

"I want to see the face you make for me..." The knight gasped, pulling out, and rolling his lover onto his back.  
"Please don't stop...!" Michael moaned for the loss, and then moaned twice as loud as his knees were pushed up and out, and he was penetrated once more.

His body was stretched and yielding, and it sucked the invasion deeper. His expression was exactly what Robert wanted; to know how much his lover was enjoying the moment.

He threw his head back, his mouth gaping, his knuckles white from gripping the sheets so tightly as the knight ploughed him with fierce mastery. If Robert couldn't learn to be the best at something, it was not worth doing. Making his boyfriend squeal was no exception.

Robert loved the feel of him, the taste of him... the way his brow creased when he was touched in _just_ the right place. Michael was just so beautiful; his wild red hair radiating across the pillow in sweaty knots. He could have watched the All Star's face all day, but he couldn't help stealing a glace at what he was doing himself - his length disappearing into the spread body before him.

That body he ached to touch...

He ran his fingers across his lover's taint, up to cup his balls, making the boy reel and gasp. The pressure he used was cautious, letting Michael's reactions guide him. He continued up, taking his jiggling shaft in a firm grip, and becoming that hand he had spent the last three months wishing to be, milking the orgasm from him.

Michael trembled and clenched; whimpers interspersed with expletives poured from his mouth, whilst ribbons of semen sprayed across his heaving stomach and chest.

It spurred on Robert's own as he tightened around him. He let out a low growl of triumph, his climax erupting deep inside him. Viscous rivers dripped from their join, thrusts becoming shudders, as they unwound from their euphoria together.

Robert collapsed against Michael's sticky chest to catch his breath for a moment, before placing a sloppy kiss on his neck and pushing himself up, to lay beside him. The American boy sighed as he stretched his legs out, his body spent and filled to overflowing.

"I love you..." The older of the pair whispered.  
Michael smiled, rolling onto his side and reigniting the kiss from earlier in the evening - the kiss that had led to this perfect session, and was about to start another. Their kisses deepened each time their lips met; a kiss for every night they had spent alone.  
"I love you, too."

* * * * *

As Gustav poured the Jasmine tea out for his master, Robert unfolded the newspaper which was sitting beside his breakfast plate. One look at the front page, and the nobleman closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

"Bring the tea to my office. I am expecting a telephone call." He sighed as he stood up and headed off in preparation.

He hadn't seen any photographers at the airport, but he really hadn't been given the opportunity to see very much at all, thanks to his enthusiastic lover. But there they were on the front page of the most popular national newspaper, amidst a passionate kiss.

It wasn't a long article, but his full name was mentioned enough times to know his uncle would be completely livid.

Michael had been slow to take a bath and wander down to the informal dining room. He was still stretching out his limbs as he made his way in. The previous night had left him feeling like he had done several of Judy's last-minute training sessions!

There was an abandoned plate and a newspaper at the head of the table, which Gustav was quick to apologise for upon his return to the room.

"So, is Robert coming back for this, or what?" His guest was polite enough to pull up a chair at the side of the table, but that's where his manners ended, as he reached over and dragged the setting in front of him.

Gustav tried his best to keep his disappointed frown internal. "No, I do not imagine so."

"All right! Check it out - I'm on the front page!" Michael cheered, holding the newspaper up and grinning at himself. "This is going on my wall."

He laid the paper out on the table and stared at the German text, picking out a few familiar words, but not understanding most of it. He could see his name, and that was the important part.  
"What does the headline say?"  
"It is a crude joke about good sportsmanship." The butler answered.  
Michael laughed as though he'd read it himself. "Well, they've got that right."  
"Would you like me to translate the article for you, Master Michael?"

Robert wouldn't be back until he had finished his dreaded phone call, and if Gustav could distract the boy from overhearing the inevitable argument, it would be better for everyone involved.

It was not the sensationalised article the American boy was used to. There were no fake rumours or exaggerated details, just a simple description of what the reporter saw. It was nice.

"I wish they'd write things like that back home." He was still smiling about how sweet his relationship sounded to someone looking in.

The older parts of the castle were relatively soundproof with their ancient stone walls, but both the informal dining room and Robert's office were in a newer extension. Luckily, to Gustav's trained ear, it sounded like the phone call was wrapping up.

Michael had finished his ill-gotten breakfast, and was looking at himself in the newspaper again, when the master of the castle returned.

"And they call that _journalism_? It is pathetic." Robert made a gesture which meant he required more tea, and the butler hurried away, without a word spoken between them.  
"It's a cute photo." Michael insisted, adding with a cheeky smile, "If you look real close, you can see how far my tongue is down your throat."

The knight dismissed the joke with a huff. "That is physically impossible."  
"You want a recap, then?"  
"Is that _all_ you ever think about?"  
Michael reached under the table to stroke his lover's leg. "I didn't hear you complaining last night."

"There is a party tonight." Robert changed the subject, whilst grabbing for the adventurous hand. Once captured and pinned on the table by the wrist, he added apologetically. "My family expect me to attend."

He didn't want to go, but he knew all too well what _he_ wanted was of no concern to the Jürgens.

"Sounds like a riot." Michael had met Robert's aunt and uncle once before, and he had never felt so inferior in his life. "And I forgot to pack my ermine coat."

"A shame. They would have liked that." It was difficult to tell if he was meeting the sarcasm with his own, or being serious. "If you do not want to go, I would never ask you to."

He had been aware that the party was being organised, but he was hoping it would fall later in the month - _after_ Michael's visit. He was determined to make sure none of his personal turmoil was ever revealed to him.

As arrogant as Michael appeared, there had been times behind closed doors when he had admitted his doubts - that he wasn't good enough for the love of royalty... that he didn't belong in a castle. The last thing Robert wanted was for him to know just how much his family agreed with those sentiments.

He knew it was a bad idea letting his common lover accompany him, but if his family could just see how happy they were together... maybe they would grow to accept him?

It was a ridiculous hope; a romantic dream fit for a teenage girl, but somewhere deep inside, he wished with his every fibre that the party might not be the nightmare he fully expected it would be.

The palace where it was being held was huge, so if things went badly, there was enough room to get away from judging eyes. When forming a battle strategy, it was important to have a plan of retreat... and knowing his family, he was going to need one.


	5. Chapter 5

Michael awkwardly pulled at his collar as a servant dressed him in one of his master's old suits. Robert hadn't been able to wear it since his growth spurt in his late teens, but it fit his shorter lover almost perfectly.

The party had been called so suddenly, there wasn't time to summon his personal tailor to make something new, but they had sent an apprentice to alter the old suit for Michael's smaller shoulders.

And right now, he was looking positively dashing, as another servant brushed his hair back, and tied it in a short ponytail. It was too tight, but he knew how important it was to Robert that he look his best.

As he stared at the mirror, being fussed over like he was incapable of doing anything himself, he started to feel that terrible inadequacy again. He wasn't royalty... and he never would be, no matter how much they dressed him up.

He didn't want to go, but he wanted to understand Robert's life. It was so different to his own, and every new experience brought him closer to the man he loved. He knew how much Robert struggled when he visited America. Surely, attending a posh party was the equivalent of making his noble boyfriend eat cheap take-away with him on a park bench.

Just the thought of Robert's horrified expression brought a guilty smile to his face - a smile that blossomed into something truly captivating when his beloved entered the room. The curve of those lips, and those sparkling blue eyes had secured millions in sponsorships, and won the adoration of fans alike; even Robert himself felt his heart skip.

"You are..." He began, lost for words as he took his lover in his arms, and kissed him. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

He was getting bolder. His kiss was still restrained and gentle, but he _had_ initiated the show of affection - in front of his staff, and where any of the other three Majestics could have walked past.

As Robert drew back, it was _his_ turn to feel inadequate. He was awkward with expressing his feelings, but it still surprised and humbled him every day to know he called this incredible boy his lover. And seeing Michael begin to blush under his gaze, he hoped that he understood what he could never say in words.

He reached over, hooking a rogue strand of hair behind the All Star's ear.  
"There." He smiled. "Perfect."

The longest part of the drive to the palace was the winding road out of Robert's estate; down a mountain, and through a forest. Made all the longer by constantly having to swat Michael's amorous hands away.

"I shall have to remember to bring some restraints up from the dungeon." He commented as he wrestled with his lover.  
"You'd handcuff me? And it's not even my birthday." Michael was straddling him, whilst both his wrists were held tightly at his shoulders.  
"They are iron shackles; they are definitely _not_ sexy."  
"That's because you haven't been using them the right way." He leant forward, as far as Robert's grip would let him. "Get ready, 'cause when we get back, I'm going to show you..."

There was an entire universe beyond what Robert thought he knew and understood. He learned something new about the depths of depravity every time his experienced boyfriend opened his mouth, it seemed. A week with him every few months was not nearly long enough to catch up on what he was lacking.

Michael gave a soft moan as he imagined himself as a helpless prisoner to Robert's merciless executioner.  
"Shit... I'm getting hard just thinking about it."

"I should have brought someone else with me instead." The nobleman sighed, like the idea didn't intrigue him.  
"Like who?"  
" _Anyone_." Robert kept his hold tight on the offending wrists, even though his palms were sweating. "Someone who would not sit on me, and wrinkle my suit."

* * * * *

At the palace, Michael was introduced with varying responses. A lot of Robert's older relatives and close family friends were desperate to scrutinise him. Whilst many of the younger women could not contain their interest over the handsome American who had stolen his heart - distant cousins who had grown up with the knight and still called him Bobby, despite his furious insistence not to.

It wasn't unlike the fundraising gatherings the All Star had been dragged to by Judy. He was very much aware he was the main focus of the event; his every move being watched and judged. But back home, he was encouraged to be his loud, arrogant self - it's what the investors wanted. Here, he didn't know how he was supposed to act, or if he was even making a good impression.

He kept his arm linked with Robert's, like a child scared of getting lost. The girls that accosted them treated him like a sideshow curiosity, with a strange mix of awe and disgust; wanting to see him up close and ask how he met their seemingly untouchable cousin.

Half their conversation was in English, but there was another half that only Robert could take part in, and by the way he snapped at one of the girls' comments, they weren't being as nice as they seemed. A real conversation for the nobility, and a fake one for the hoi polloi... If Michael had ever felt like an outsider in Robert's world before, it paled into insignificance compared to what he felt right now.

He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, and he knew before he even turned around that it was Duke Jürgens. 

"Excuse us, Robert. I wish to speak with your friend alone."

This was the moment the Majestic had been dreading. His wide, fierce eyes challenged his uncle's authority, but he said nothing as Michael nodded and let go of his arm for the first time that evening.

"Walk with me, Mr Parker."

It was strange - Michael had never felt ashamed of his promiscuity or sexuality in the presence of the media, but Robert's family put him on edge, and turned him into a shy little boy with a million dirty secrets.

Their walk was made in uncomfortable silence, and when they were some distance away from the rest of the gathering, the Duke cleared his throat and began to speak.

"What was Robert thinking - bringing _you_ as his date? The boy has no sense of propriety."  
Michael frowned. He might have been able to argue back, if he knew what _propriety_ meant. Finally, a conversation in English, and he was _still_ struggling with it.

"Do you have any idea what he is destined for? What you are ruining with your indiscretion?"  
Was he using big words on purpose? Whilst he wasn't uneducated, Michael's strengths were athletic, not academic.

"I'm not ruining anything; I love him." It wasn't a carefully constructed reply, but it got his point across. He had never let anyone tell him what to do before; he wasn't about to start just because it was royalty standing before him this time.

"Love has nothing to do with his duties as a knight of this family. Although, we are pleased the common slut he has decided to have this fling of his with is not going to saddle him with a bastard child."  
"Excuse me? This isn't some _fling_ , and I'm not a _common slut_!"  
Sure, it had started out that way - on both accounts - but now, they were in a committed relationship.

He hated that those words hurt him as much as they did. The Duke, however, seemed oblivious to his company's distress, and continued his attack.

"Look at him over there. Do you not think he looks happy in the company of ladies of his own stature?" Duke Jürgens nodded back to the terrace, where Robert was still talking to the girls. If it was possible, they looked even more posh from a distance. "The pretty blonde would make a fine wife for him."

Michael closed his eyes and bowed his head. Yes, she probably would be a lovely bride... but she would never love Robert like he did. No one could love Robert like he did.

"How much is it going to take to make you disappear?"  
Michael started. The question was sudden and strange. "I'm sorry; what?"  
"You are after money, are you not?"  
"You can't just buy me out!" He nearly shouted it, horrified.

He wasn't royalty, but he certainly wasn't poverty-stricken. Even with their budget cuts, he was still part of the highest funded Beyblade team in the world, and outside of the training facility, his skill, his looks, and his bad boy reputation had advertisers clambering to have their brands seen with him.

And most importantly - he loved Robert. He loved him so much that the sheer thought of being bribed to stop made his eyes glassy with angry tears.

"A pity." The Duke sighed audibly. "You are an embarrassment to us, Mr Parker. You do not belong here."  
"I..." Michael began, but his company had already turned away, content to ignore him, having ended his own part of the conversation.

_I..._

_I know._

Michael clenched his fists and his teeth. It was all he could do to stop the tears stinging his eyes. He would never be known as a gracious loser, but he was not going to give these people the satisfaction of knowing they had broken him. He would not let them see him cry.

So, for the first time, he fought to keep his emotions in check. For the sake of his pride, he walked away quickly and quietly. He wanted to punch something... He wanted to throw himself on the ground and scream...

Around a darkened corner, he grit his teeth and let out a low growl, and swung his fist into the first solid surface he found - an unforgiving stone balustrade. Anger gave way to pain, and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself before looking at the damage he had done.

His knuckles were raw, and his fingers tingled with confused messages of numbness and agony. It had done the trick; it had taken his mind off Robert, but now he had another concern. What if he had broken his hand? Judy would kill him!

"And then, no one will want me..." He murmured, wincing as he held his wounded hand. He was bleeding; the blood trickled down his wrist, staining the cuff of Robert's expensive shirt. He was ruining everything!


	6. Chapter 6

The immovable... the very nearly unbeatable, Sir Robert Jürgens had exposed a weakness nearly two years ago. After so long, watching and waiting for an opportunity to exploit that weakness, it almost seemed like he was imagining it...

At last, Robert had dropped his guard.

"You certainly bleed a lot, don't you?"

Michael jumped at the unexpected company. He had no phone or money on him; he was at a strange palace he couldn't pronounce the name of, and he had no idea how to get back to Jürgens Castle on his own. He was captive until Robert was allowed to leave, or the party ended - neither of which could come quick enough.

He wanted to hide. He wanted to be alone. He wanted things to go back to the way they were... when he didn't know just how worthless he was in the eyes of Robert's family.

"Are you here to tell me off, like everyone else?" He muttered, flexing his fingers, and crying out as they protested the move.

"I can see what enchants Robert so... this handsome boy who bleeds so nicely." The shadows gave way to form, as the cloaked presence emerged, pale and dark all at once. "Let me look at your hand."

With a skewed smirk, he offered his own clawed hand out to the American.  
"It would be... _unfortunate_ if you were hurt. I am sure it would cause Robert a great deal of distress."

"Yeah, right." Michael sulked. If he was _that_ repulsive, what did the nobleman even see in him?

His company was silent, staring at him with wide eyes. He had a very similar appearance to Robert; his features sharp and angular, and his cropped auburn hair slicked back in much the same style. But he lacked the presence... he did not radiate the same confidence.

He was familiar, but not just because he physically resembled Robert.

"Wait... I know you. You're a blader!"

Michael remembered seeing him and his team at the edge of the crowd at the World Championships. Almost everyone in the Beyblading scene favoured bright colours, so a _team of goths_ (as Steven had inarticulately put it) really stood out, despite them keeping quiet and to themselves.

"Yes, I am." The stranger smiled, his long fangs teasing his bottom lip; his eyes never leaving the expanding cloud of red on Michael's cuff.

"We should definitely battle sometime."  
"I would like that. I hear you have a very impressive Bit Beast."

Perhaps the night wouldn't be completely full of nasty snobs after all? It was the first time Michael had smiled since arriving at the palace.

"Oh, yeah. Trygle is awesome!"  
"I am pleased."

The mystery blader had a genteel way of speaking, but he was dressed in a shabby robe. Was he part of the nobility, or one of their servants?

"Are you a friend of Robert's?" Michael asked.  
"No, I am something quite different." The stranger gave a thoughtful sigh. "Our Robert is not good at making friends."

The American laughed at the understatement. "I know, right?"  
He hadn't met any of his lover's friends before. He was beginning to doubt that he had any outside of the Majestics.

"Please, let me look at your hand." It was not concern in the stranger's voice; it was desperation, as he moved closer to his victim.

"I shouldn't have let them get to me..." The boy held his hand out, just happy for the positive attention. "I'm in so much trouble."

_You have no idea._

* * * * *

His uncle had returned to the festivities; Robert could see him mingling with the guests, laughing at jokes that weren't funny, and playing the gracious host... but Michael was nowhere to be seen.

He pushed his way through the crowd, amidst offended gasps. Such untoward behaviour must have come from associating with common filth. There would be even more rumours circulating about his fall from grace in no time.

His cousins, desperate for more gossip, tried to get him to the dance floor. It had been almost two years since they had spoken to him. It was an intervention in the guise of a party, but they still wanted their curiosity sated.

Was a commoner really worth all the trouble?

Yes. More than his own heart understood...

Robert had been told ever since he was old enough to understand that he would marry a girl who had his family's blessing, and raise a son. His son would be given the same name as him, just like his father and grandfather before him. He knew what was expected of him, and there was comfort in always knowing his destiny.

He assumed his disinterest in women was simply because he was being forced to find the right bride as quickly as possible. He hadn't been _allowed_ to be gay. It wasn't part of his family's grand scheme.

Along with plans for his future wife and son, he had been shuffled off to various lessons in the art of being a noble. He had learned music, dance, horse-riding... even medieval combat.

There really wasn't much call for a master of the flail in modern times, so he worked it into a little game he had been dabbling in...

He poured himself into perfecting his Beyblading techniques. It was the first thing he'd ever decided for himself, and even when he made his way to the top, and gained international fame for his talent, he was told it was not a desirable hobby; that he should take up a more gentlemanly sport.

It wasn't much of a rebellion, but he refused to give it up. Every win was like the world was telling him he was right.

Even though he did everything they wanted him to, the smallest thing he did for himself was a huge disappointment to his family. If he wasn't even allowed to choose his own hobbies, it was to be expected that he wouldn't be allowed to choose the person he fell in love with.

It didn't matter that he had fallen for a common boy, the Jürgens would have been just as angry if Michael had been a girl from a noble bloodline they didn't like.

There was no pleasing them, and Robert was only just learning that he had spent his whole life pretending to be their perfect little heir, who was not only vastly different to the person he actually was, but someone he could never truly be, no matter how hard he tried.

He pushed past the girls, with a single destination in mind. He knew how rude it was to speak over a conversation, but he no longer cared. His family had made it abundantly clear what they actually thought of him.

"Where is Michael?" He demanded.  
His uncle gave him a disapproving look, excusing himself from the group he had been talking to.  
"Are these American manners, Robert?"

The young lord ignored the stab at his guest, asking again where he was.

"He is not clinging to you, like the desperate little embarrassment he is?" The Duke gave a dramatic shrug. "Well then, I do not know."  
"What have you done to him?"  
"As much as I despise him, I would hardly harm your little friend... with so many witnesses around."

"Pardon?!"  
"It was a joke. Much like your relationship."

Robert began to protest, but his uncle would not hear it.

"He is too common to understand the protocol, so he is the first person to openly express a romantic interest in you. If you are not strong enough, it is difficult to turn that kind of attention down. But tell me, Robert, do you actually love _him_ , or do you love having sexual relations with him?"  
"How dare you-"  
"That _is_ the only thing that baseborn mongrel has to offer you, is it not?"

Robert was so offended, it took all of his self-discipline to stop a violent reaction bubbling to the surface.

Of course he loved it. He loved that every night they had spent together since becoming an official couple, they made love. He knew every hill and vale of Michael's muscular body; where he was ticklish, and where he loved to be touched...

Even if Robert was not, Michael was a creature of the flesh, so their relationship was intensely physical. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it, but they meant so much more to each other than just carnal pleasure.

If he were just using him for his own gratification, the words his uncle had used to describe him wouldn't have made Robert's blood boil like they did.

"I remember my brother-" The older man continued, and then clarified, " _Your father_ , had the same silly obsession with one of the servant girls when he was your age. Needless to say, it did not end well."

_It was not allowed to end well, you mean._

Robert loved what he remembered of his mother. She had been a refined, elegant woman, with a lineage as prestigious as his father's, but had his father been forced to put aside his love for a common girl, and marry the _right_ girl for the sake of family honour? When the time came, would Robert be expected to do the same thing?

Of course he would. It was the way the Jürgens had always worked.

* * * * *

There were flashes of moments. Strong arms were wrapped around him as desperate kisses rained down on his neck.

"Robert..." Michael slurred, his head flopping back against the wall, as the onslaught continued. "...Why didn't you tell me they hated me so much?"

He felt a chill; his pulse pounding in his head, as the kisses continued. It hurt, but he was too sleepy to protest. Was that drool he could feel trickling over his collarbone?

"I want to go home."

He hadn't had _that_ much to drink - just a few sips of wine to be polite. He didn't want to embarrass Robert in front of his family any more than he already had, simply by existing.

But he couldn't remember the events leading up to this tryst in the garden - not that he minded Robert acting on the urges he usually kept so guarded. He just wished he felt a little better so that he could enjoy it more.

He could feel hands running down his chest, and unbuttoning his jacket. He slipped in and out of consciousness, stirring as he felt heated breath on his bare stomach.

"Robert, I'm sorry..." It was shameful that he couldn't even stay awake for his lover's affections, when he was being so...

_This isn't right!_

Every chance Michael got, he was on his knees for him, slurping his semen like he was dying of thirst. To take such a submissive position was something completely unthinkable to Robert. He was royalty - he did not kneel.

_This isn't right..._

He gave a weak moan as a sharp pain spread across his groin, before darkness engulfed him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... hopefully a lot quicker than this chapter was!
> 
> I'm just re-writing the current scene, because I didn't like how it was sitting in the story, if that makes sense? I'm sad about losing so much writing, but I think it will make the plot a lot smoother.


	7. Chapter 7

"Michael?" Oliver's cheery voice cut through the darkness. "What are you doing out here all by yourself? Where's Robert?"  
The All Star grimaced, stumbling to his feet, and looking around to place exactly where he was. "I- I don't know."  
"You're hurt!" His companion exclaimed, noticing his bleeding hand. "We need to get you cleaned up, and then, I'm taking you home to bed."

He giggled as he linked arms with the American boy and led him back to the servants' quarters of the palace.  
"Oh, I don't mean it like _that_... unless you want me to."

It was only sheer luck that one of Oliver's restaurants was catering the party. He had been so bored listening to Johnny and Enrique discussing the finer points of girls and cars - for the _entire_ evening - that he decided to take a trip to check how his staff were handling the event.

"It's incredible I found you." He commented as he opened the kitchen's first aid kit and tended to Michael's wounded hand. "I didn't even know this was the Jürgens' party until I got here."

He wrapped the bandage so neatly, it was like a work of art itself.

"There." He smiled, and gave the bandage a soft kiss. "Johnny is always punching things, so I've become really good at doing this."  
Michael raised a doubtful eyebrow. "Even the kiss?"  
" _Especially_ the kiss - it's the most important part! How are you going to heal quickly if you don't know that someone loves you, and wants you to get better?"

It was the sweetest thing Michael had ever heard. The Majestics insisted they weren't a team, or even friends, but the more he got to know them, the more they seemed like a family. A really dysfunctional family, but still, they understood how each other worked.

His own team was... different. He would be too embarrassed to show any sort of weakness in front of Eddy or Steve. He always had to be strong, or suffer weeks of teasing. Emily was a _little_ more sensitive, but if he wasn't anything but his perfectly arrogant self for her, it would mean hours of tests, whilst Judy lectured him about his lack of dedication.

"I thought you two didn't get along?"  
"We don't." The green-haired boy replied flatly, not elucidating any further.

He sent a message with one of the wait staff to let Robert know where his guest was, without any details that would cause him to worry. _That_ could be left until after they were all together at the castle.

"Man, I owe you one." Michael sighed with relief as the pair were chauffeured out of the palace grounds. "Are Robert's family _all_ jerks?"

"They just take a little while to warm to new people." Oliver shrugged, "And you're _quite_ different to what they're used to."

Michael never saw the arguments between Robert and his uncle, or the disagreements he'd had with Judy before signing the secret contract. He had done everything in his power to make sure his lover never found out just how much their circles wanted them apart.

Oliver didn't want to tell Michael how much his captain worried; how it played on his mind every single day. That, for the past two years, his entire focus was making sure Michael was as happy as he could possibly be.

He peeled back the bandage to give the wound another look.  
"That's still no reason to go around punching things. Robert is going to freak when he hears you've been hurt."

"He should have said something. I wouldn't have gone if he'd told me how they really felt..."

The streetlights became further apart from each other, until there was only complete darkness outside. The journey seemed longer than it ever had before. They still had to travel through dense forest, and then up a winding road to Robert's castle in the mountains.

"He completely and utterly adores you! We attended the same gentlemen's college in Paris. He was a couple of grades ahead of me, but we were fencing partners - until his uncle pulled him out of the class." Oliver was aware he was rambling. He cleared his throat and re-focused. "What I'm saying is - I've known him since he was a teenager, and I've _never_ seen him so rapt in anyone or anything."

With Duke Jürgens' words still ringing in Michael's ears, it didn't feel that way. He gave an unconvinced snort.

"Come on, you _know_ he's never going to admit it." Oliver persisted. "Robert doesn't tell anyone what he's feeling. But... he has told you that he loves you, yes? That's a _huge_ thing for him."

He said it all the time. It used to mean something, but Michael wasn't so sure any more. Just what was the truth in Robert's world?

* * * * *

The castle had sunk into an eerie quiet for the evening, with only a couple of staff still wandering the halls.

Michael headed to the room he shared with Robert, but stopped short in the corridor. No. Even though it had made his heart soar when he had been asked to make the transition from guest to lover, he could not sleep in that bed tonight.

He opened the door to the guest room he had stayed in for previous visits, comforted by the sight of those familiar tapestries that had witnessed the very first steps toward his relationship with Robert.

He had never been told he was no good before. His entire life had been filled with praise. Everything about him was perfect, wasn't it? He was blessed with incredibly good looks, and sporting talent... what was there to criticise?

Robert's entire family hated him just because of what he was. They didn't care who he was, or how happy he and Robert were together. All that mattered were their out-dated traditions.

This visit was supposed to be a happy time, but all he wanted to do was go back home and surround himself with his adoring fans and their endless streams of compliments. Michael had never felt so miserable or alone.

Safely surrounded by the room he knew best, he could not hold back his tears any longer. His knees buckled and he slumped against the wall, his shoulders shaking as he cried out all his frustration.

* * * * *

Upon their arrival home, Gustav was given a detailed report of what had happened in the castle during his and Robert's absence. He relayed the news of Michael's injury and current whereabouts to his master, before excusing himself to take care of the other household issues on the list.

Robert was as annoyed as he was exhausted. The party had dragged on into the early hours of the morning, and his family had badgered him for the entire time.

There seemed to be no end of eligible ladies who were "far more suitable" for him. He was sure his uncle had even lowered his standards for what constituted the elite - just so long as she wasn't a common boy, it seemed.

He could only imagine what sort of things Michael had been told, _being_ that common boy.

There would be no avoiding it. He trudged up to the guest wing. He opened the door as quietly as the old hinges would allow, and peered inside. Michael's form was outlined in blue moonlight on the bed, curled up on top of the covers.

The knight watched him for a moment, wincing when the silhouette sniffled. He wasn't used to handling situations like this.

Sighing, he walked over to the bed, and crawled onto it. He didn't know what his uncle had said to Michael, and he didn't know what he was going to do to make things better.

The All Star stirred at the movement on the mattress beside him. Robert leant over him, tracing the streaks of dried tears with his fingertips,

"They hate me..." Michael stayed on his side, refusing eye contact, just staring sadly out at the night sky beyond the window.  
"They hate everyone." Robert clarified, relieved when he heard the boy give a single snort in response.

There was silence for a moment, as Robert lay down, his head resting against Michael's; so close, the younger boy could feel his breath against his cheek.  
"Whatever my uncle said is simply not true."

But it _was_ true - every single word, and that's what made it so painful.

The nobleman ran his hand down his lover's arm, taking his bandaged hand in his. "Are you all right?"  
"It's nothing." He mumbled. He felt so worthless; like he didn't deserve Robert's concern, let alone his love.

"I am so sorry. I knew what they were like, but I hoped they would understand how much you mean to me if they saw us together... I should not have put you in that situation."

Michael swallowed hard. His eyes were so sore, he thought he had run out of tears, but he could feel new ones welling up, and he was desperate to stop them. He knew he shouldn't have been so upset; it was just a bunch of snobs looking down on him. Just because they said all those things, didn't make them true...

He ripped his hand from the older boy's grasp. "I don't need protecting."  
"I was not asking." Robert reached for his hand again.

"...Robert?"  
"Yes?"  
"What would your life be like if we hadn't... if you hadn't met me?"  
"It would have been very boring, I am sure." He sighed, imagining it.

He would have laughed at those jokes that weren't funny. He would have danced with his gossiping, obnoxious cousins, and played the part of the perfect heir. It would have been a pleasant night... if he didn't know any better.

He would never have felt such spectacular highs, or devastating lows, as he did when he was enjoying the hobby his family didn't approve of... or when he was in the arms of the lover they hated.

They fell asleep together; Robert's chest to Michael's back, and his arms wrapped tightly around him.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning was reminiscent of Michael's first stay in the castle. He lay in the guest bedroom whilst one of Robert's maids fussed over his wounded hand.

Her master stood back, arms folded, overseeing everything that was happening. Whilst it might have seemed like he didn't care; this _was_ the only way he knew how to help.

The daylight revealed the boy was more bruised than cut. Robert had seen Johnny's injured knuckles enough times to know what damage punching inanimate objects caused (he probably had grazes under his gloves right now).

There was really only one thing that he could possibly imagine would make Michael want to lash out like that. If Robert were less disciplined, he would have been driven to do the same, under the never-ending persecution of his family. But like all unpleasant matters, his preferred way of dealing with them was in complete silence. 

"I'm okay." The American sat up. He was still wearing the previous night's suit, and at the time, he had been too exhausted to realise just how uncomfortable it was to sleep in. He loosened his tie as he stretched.

"Don't worry about it." He added, "Really."

It wasn't the first time he had hurt himself at a party. For someone whose job it was to stay in peak physical condition, Michael did a lot of reckless things outside of his strict diet and exercise routine - things that had cut him up worse than grazed knuckles.

Eddy and Steve could tell Robert some stories that would make his stony complexion turn bright red!

At least Judy's star athlete wouldn't be getting a lecture about his irresponsible behaviour this time. Well, not one he couldn't bring to a quick end with the right moves...

"I'd really like to get out of these clothes, though."  
"There is a lady present." Robert reminded him.  
"So?"  
"So, I would appreciate you keeping your indecency to a minimum."

"Get me naked, and I'll show you just how indecent I can be." The younger boy taunted, knowing exactly the embarrassed reaction he would get.  
"You will be quiet!"

Perfect.

The maid was an older lady, and even though her face was wrinkled and her hair was greying, she held onto the remnants of her youth's great beauty. Michael's smile and wink were lost on her, as she kept her eyes down, and remained professional throughout the banter.

When the boy started taking off his jacket, Robert's frown of disgust turned into one of concern, as he uncovered more bloodstains on his shirt. This was more than bruised knuckles.

"Did any of my family harm you last night?" The nobleman demanded, already planning a furious phone call.

"Aside from making me feel like shit?" Michael's single, cynical chuckle caught in his throat. "No."

The maid helped him with the buttons on his collar, at her master's command, baring the first of Sanguinex's gory kisses. Robert's eyes widened, as his heart sank. He moved to his lover's side, studying the wound in the hope that it wasn't what he suspected.

When faced with the alternative, perhaps it would have been better if his uncle had got violent? He knew _exactly_ which one of his acquaintances would be skulking around in the darkness, biting people.

"Did you meet anyone... _unusual_ last night?"

"Not really..." Michael gave a vague answer, wanting to forget the party even happened. It was cruel to ask him to pour through all the disappointed faces he had been introduced to.

"What _do_ you remember about last night?"  
"I remember how you kissed me in the garden."

Robert gave a warning nod toward the maid, who had moved to the corner of the room to allow her master space. "I would do no such thing!"

"I'm awake this time, so you can kiss me all you like." Michael laid back suggestively, arching his back. "On my neck... on my stomach..."

His neck? His stomach?! Indecency in front of a lady was the least of his worries, as Robert ripped open the boy's shirt. There was more blood... smears of it taunting him from beneath his lover's waistband.

"Ooh! This early in the morning?" Michael did not appreciate the seriousness of the situation; giggling as the knight unzipped his pants.

Of course he wasn't wearing anything underneath. He was so deliciously disgusting...

Robert ran his fingers over the second bite, on the plane of soft flesh where Michael's leg met his crotch. It was strategically placed as a silent challenge to his lover - Sanguinex could have bitten him somewhere far more intimate, but chose not to.

"I don't remember doing that." Michael propped himself up on his elbows, and poked at the wound.  
It must have happened when he blacked out, and Robert was not going to let him know otherwise. He had been attacked by a vampire? It would be too ridiculous to explain.

"Do you remember _anything_ strange at all?" Did Sanguinex attack without warning? Did he say anything? He had so many questions.

"I don't want to remember any of it, Robert!"  
"I know." He had endangered his lover both emotionally _and_ physically by leaving him unattended at the party. "I will never forgive myself for what has happened to you."

"Nothing happened to me!" Michael insisted. "I shouldn't have got so angry. It's not your fault."

"Clean him up." Robert ordered curtly and suddenly, not looking back as he left the room.

It was _all_ his fault.

This was the very scenario he had been dreading. He never wanted these two elements of his life to intersect, but he couldn't keep Michael prisoner under his constant watch, just as he couldn't predict Sanguinex's movements. He hated not being in control!

But...

Had he ever really been in control of anything?

It was unforgivable! He had let his desperate pride rule over his common sense. He _knew_ his family would never accept Michael, but still, he wanted them to see him... to see _them_ together, and the price for it had been far more than he expected.

He had allowed Michael to be hurt in his personal feud, and the scorn of his family was nothing compared to the shame he felt for dishonouring his knightly vows.

* * * * *

After his bath, the maid helped Michael back to bed. She touched him gently, with all the care he imagined his mother might have used.

"Master Michael?" She spoke softly, like she was afraid of addressing him, as she tended his wounds.

"I'm never going to get used that 'Master' shit. Just Michael is fine."  
"Master Michael, it is not my place to say, but my lord loves you so much." She looked around, like she was afraid of being caught speaking to him. "No matter what his family says or does to you, do not let them win."  
"Ugh, I hope I never see any of those assholes ever again. How does Robert put up with them?"

She giggled, never imagining anyone would dare use such a word to describe the Jürgens, no matter how true it was.

"He has always done what they have told him to... that is, until now - until _you_. They don't see love, they see rebellion, and they will not stop until they get what they want, Master Michael. You will have to fight."

"I don't know if I can." He sighed. "I mean, is it worth the trouble? They hate me. Maybe things would be better for everyone if I just left?"

"And then what, Master Michael? You just learn to live with the regret of what could have been? The late Mistress Jürgens was very dear to me - and I mean her no disrespect - but I serve a master who is the image of the man I loved, knowing if I had just been stronger... he would have been _my_ son."

The doorknob rattled, ending their conversation instantly, as Robert made his way back into the room.

He was calm and emotionless once more. Sanguinex's appearance may have distressed him at first, but after thinking on it, the burden of keeping him a secret was no longer a worry. He could better prepare his defences and be ready for their inevitable encounter.

"Leave us." He ordered with a wave of his hand.

The maid curtsied as she obeyed, closing the door behind her without a word. Michael stared after her. She had been in the same situation as him with Robert's father, and she had crumbled under the pressure of his family.

Was there worse to come than just nasty comments?

Sport was the only thing Michael had ever really used his fighting spirit for, because he loved being the centre of an audience's attention. Would he be able to summon that same zeal for something private like his relationship?

"Are your wounds causing you any pain?" Robert asked with the same abruptness he used to order his maid.  
"Not really."  
"Good. Then, tell me about these kisses in the garden."

Michael gave a naughty smirk, thinking it was Robert's way of initiating a repeat of the experience.  
"I was talking to your friend, and then... I don't know? I never knew you could be so spontaneous! I liked it."

It was hint, but one that the very cautious nobleman was incapable of following, in the event that he understood it at all. Spontaneity for him was deciding to have his dinner in a different dining room to usual, not a naughty rendezvous.

He stood in silence, frowning at the mention of his _friend_. Just because Sanguinex was all smiles when they had last seen each other at the finals, didn't mean his curse was lifted, or that he would just slink back into the shadows. His kind of grudge wouldn't just disappear because he liked Tyson...

"Robert?" Michael prompted. "I want more of those kisses."  
The knight corrected him. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine! It's just a couple of cuts and bruises. I've survived worse than this."

Robert nodded, the faintest smile betraying his lips as he thought about the beginnings of his unlikely romance. Michael had been just as insistent and obnoxious back then, but what he had first despised, he had grown to adore - the boy's determination.

"Yes, of course I remember." He said fondly, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

The redhead smiled. "Did you ever think it would turn out like this?"  
"Hardly. I could not wait for you to leave."

How things had changed. Robert's life had been uncomplicated, with a clear direction. He made enemies as he pleased, because he only had to worry about himself. But now, everything was a mess - a crazy, awful, wonderful mess.

He bent down and kissed the boy's neck - deep and long, on his wound, reclaiming him. Michael threw his head back, running his fingers up through the knight's cropped hair.

"I have one lower..." He moaned. "Robert, please... kiss me there."  
Robert kissed his fingers, and pressed them to the marks on his lover's groin. "You need to rest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be Continued...
> 
> Chapter Nine shouldn't be too far away. I've been working on it at the same time as this one. ^_^


End file.
